There is something magic in Ōki Izumi’s works. In her hands the material she uses is transformed. Hard, amorphous, cold and transparent panes that she bravely confronts with a sharp blade become a delicate language made of bright images, frail suggestions. The observer’s eye gets lost in a labyrinth of reflections recalling archetypal forms evoking images suspended in the memory and inviting to play with imagination. Everything is moving, just like mental images, thanks to the complicity of the ever-changing reflections of light. In Ōki’s hands, the skilful cut of the blade succeeds in trapping the rays inside the labyrinth.
Ōki’s work is at the same time ‘abstracted’ from the coldness of the material, concretely rooted in her cultural origins and in her own life history as an artist. In the vibrations of her glass works, so hard and heavy, we immediately catch the same suggestions that inspired the Japanese painters of the ukiyoe, the ‘floating world’.
Like the painters of that movement, trying to catch the ephemeral side of life through an impressionistic representation of landscapes in their ever-changing lights and seasonal changes, Ōki reveals the internal frailty of the forms she creates and of the material itself, apparently cold, but transient like everything in this world. In her case too, the medium is light, with its ever-changing reflections. With a touch of magic.